Precious.
Old snaps
in cobweb-box still hold sway.
Time\'s precious hours
caught in young smile\'s relaxation
recall young laughter.
Green days
of gold-meadowed long pigtails.
Tied-ankle races,
swift butterfly pre-occupation
and chasings after.
High times
of hiding to seek picked daisies.
Playing at mud cakes
in youth\'s open-faced dedication
to fascination.
Good years
ear-marked as free yet chained.
Adulthood soon gained
by commitment to ordered ways
sees those years as waste.
Yet hear
broadcast the saying of sages.
If we young at heart stay
and child-like remain
we become ageless.